


Wild Rose

by floranaconda



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1547597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floranaconda/pseuds/floranaconda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is pulling his life back together and when a gorgeous blue eyed man comes into the bookshop where he works, he finally feels ready to let someone in. He should have known better.</p><p>Based on the song Where the Wild Roses Grow by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds featuring Kylie Minogue</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Rose

_For her lips were the colour of the roses_   
_that grew down the river_   
_all bloody and wild_

Dean loved working in the second hand bookshop, there was something calming about being surrounded by hundreds of musty tomes. Some of the books were pretty interesting too, a large section of the shop was dedicated to weird and ancient occult books but they had a good selection if novels too and when the shop was quiet, Dean would sometimes grab one to read whilst he waited for customers.

The shop belonged to Bobby Singer, a family friend of Dean's who gave him a job and the apartment over the shop after Dean's dad had passed away the year before. At the time he'd found the bookshop to be a perfect escape, he could lose himself amongst the books and forget everything he had lost for a few hours. He was more than grateful for the apartment too, with his brother rushing off to college, Dean thought he would have gone mad alone in their empty family home.

So he'd spoken to Sam who'd agreed, sold up and moved out here and it was going well. He was coping, his job kept him distracted and when it got too much he'd pick up his keys and make the three hour drive over to Stanford and stay the night with his brother. Sam never minded.

He was drinking less now as well. Sure there was still a whisky bottle on his bedside table to help him sleep but he could go more than a day at a time completely sober.

Of course, it was still tough and nightmares about fires and gunshots plagued his sleep and he'd spend the first few hours of the day shaken.

The day Castiel appeared, Dean was still recovering from a particularly vivid dream and he was as white as snow when the man opened the door to the shop.

Dean watched the man browse the books and noticed how he trailed his fingers fondly over the spines of the bibles as he passed them. He was religious, Dean guessed, hell he looked good enough to be an angel, Dean laughed to himself.

Dean couldn't keep his eyes off the man as he flicked through dusty paperbacks. He was fascinated with the rustic shine of the morning sun on his hair, the stiff way he walked and the gentle handling of the book in his hand.

He read the blurb of the book and his entire focus seemed to be one the book, even his shoulders were hunched inwards to create a shield against the rest of the world. Dean wondered to himself what it would be like to be the focus of all that attention.

He didn't have to wonder for long though as soon the man brought the book over to the counter and Dean was pinned under the intense gaze.

When the man showed no sign of either breaking eye contact or speaking, Dean coughed and his eyes flicked down to the man's lips before looking away. They were pale and dry but definitely appealing.

“Can I get you something?” he asked and the man seemed to realise he had been staring. He shook himself and handed over the book he'd been looking at. It was the picture of Dorian Gray.

“Nice choice, what made you pick this?” Dean asked conversationally and the man thought about it for a moment before replying. Or at least Dean presumed that was the reason for the hesitation.

“I am fascinated by humanity's fixation on beauty.”

Dean laughed, “well you picked the right book then.”

“I believe so” The man replied “It also seems to confirm my belief that beauty leads to sin.”

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise as he struggled to find a suitable reply, in the end he focused on scanning the book through instead. He could feel startlingly blue eyes following his movements and forced himself not to look up and meet them because damn, if beauty led to sin then this man must be surrounded by it and he really didn't want to make a fool of himself.

“Well, enjoy your book.” Dean said after the man had paid and was answered with a smile and a nod.

Dean watched the man walk towards the door regretfully and wished he had prolonged the conversation, found out more about the strange guy but he guessed it was too late now.

Just as the man was opening the door to leave he turned back to Dean,

“My name is Castiel, what it yours?”

Dean grinned as he called out his name. He didn't think about the nightmare at all for the rest of the day.

-

Saturdays were always busy for the bookshop and this Saturday was no exception, so it really wasn't helpful that Dean's stomach flipped every time the bell above the door chimed. In fact Dean would go as far as to say it was infuriating, especially as it was incredibly unlikely or the blue eyed Castiel to be the one to next walk through the door.

The upside of a busy shop was that it left very little time for Dean to think. He'd spent the entire evening the night before mulling over the interaction with Castel and trying to work out what it was about him that set Dean ablaze. The thought of Castiel made him feel electrified and he wanted to see him again. The night before, the thought of chapped lips and blue eyes had brought his orgasm out of him with double the usual ferocity and he'd stayed, panting on his bed and unable to move with his come stained hand still clutching around himself for a long time after.

So yeah, Dean was maybe a little creepy but he wanted to see the guy again and the constant stream of shoppers were making him irritable.

As the afternoon wore on, the crowds began to thin and then, at last, the ship was empty. Dean sighed and settled down in the chair behind the counter for the last hour of his shift. He opened up his book to a random page, not under the illusion that he'd get any reading done when the door opened and he groaned quietly before looking up.

Castiel was stood by the door looking a little nervous. His hands were clasped behind his back and his hair was a windswept mess, his cheeks were flushed from the cold or the wind and he looked gorgeous.

He was certain his mouth was hanging slightly open and his breathing was shallow and christ, since when did Dean react to people like this?

 

Castiel was walking towards him now, ignoring the books and making his way straight to him. Dean gulped.

When he reached the counter, Dean put his book to the side and grinned up at him.

“Hey Cas.” Castiel looked confused for a moment at the use of the nickname but the expression quickly turned to a smile.

“Hello Dean.” He rumbled and Dean could feel it in his gut (and maybe somewhere a little lower down too but he ignored that). Those thoughts were shot from his mind a moment later anyway as Cas revealed a satiny red rose from behind his back and held it out with a quiet “For you”.

Dean's face flushed to match the colour as he took the flower with a sincere “thanks” and although he generally didn't like receiving flowers, he didn't feel like he minded this time.

“Hey, uh, Cas, you doing anything tonight?”

“I don't believe so, are you asking if I would like to?” Although his voice seemed confident and teasing, Castiel was wringing his hands nervously and honestly, Dean thought it was cute.

“The shop shuts soon, after you could come to mine for food?” Dean worried for a moment that inviting him to his was a little too forward but Cas looked happy.

“I would like that Dean.”

-

Castiel had left for the rest of Dean's shift and returned an hour later with a bottle of wine. Dean was waiting for him outside and he grinned when he saw him.

“Do you live far from here?” Cas asked and Dean laughed as he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door he was stood in front of. “I guess not” Castiel answered himself whilst they ascended the stairs.

The apartment was small and cluttered but he was pretty sure there wasn't any dirty underwear lying around and he'd done the dishes so Dean wasn't too embarrassed to have Castiel there.

The front door of the apartment opened into a living room/dining room. There was a small, tattered sofa facing a wide-screen TV on one side of the room and the other half was taken up by a small wooden table that was scattered with magazines about music and cars. One wall was covered in shelves filled with books, DVDs and records and there was a single photo tacked to the adjacent wall, it was old and faded but it was the only photo Dean had of his entire family.

Even this room alone reeked of Dean, all his interests and all the things he loved were bared for anyone to look but Dean didn't mind Cas looking. It was rare for Dean to let anyone in but an attractive and probably religious stranger he knew nothing about seemed as goos a place to start as any. He ignored the voice in the back of his head screaming logic and warnings at him.

He looked over at Cas nervously as he eyed the room up but Castiel seemed to intent on scouring the room with his eyes to notice. He spotted the photo on the wall and Dean followed him over as he went to investigate.

“Is this your family?” He asked and Dean nodded.

“That's my mum and dad.” He pointed to the couple leaning against a black impala. “That's my little brother Sam, he's a genius is Sammy, he's studying law at Stanford.” He was beaming proudly as he pointed to one of the children who had floppy hair and was grinning toothily up at the older boy.

“That's me” His finger moved to hover over the older brother, “and that's my half brother Adam, I only met him twice. He went missing two weeks after that photo was taken. Never found him.” Adam was the youngest of the three boys and he was being held by his dad, his tiny fist clasped around a tuft of his hair. Dean felt sick every time he thought of what had happened to him.

“I'm sorry” Castiel murmured and placed a hand on Dean's arm.

“I never really knew him.” He mumbled, “But yeah, it sucks.”

He shuffled under Cas' sympathetic gaze and looked around for some way of lightening the mood.

“Music?” He asked, leading Cas over to the shelves of records, “What're you into? I've got Zeppelin, Metallica, even Bon Jovi if you're into that?”

“Uh...”

“I won't judge, Bon Jovi rocks on occasion.”

Castiel's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and his eyes raked over the records without lighting up in recognition at any of them.

“I do not know any of these bands. I listen mainly to classical music or the music in church.”

Ok, weird, not having heard of Led Zeppelin was a whole new level of recluse but Dean could work with it. He flicked through his collection for a moment.

“Hmm, hallelujah's played in churches and all that right?”

He didn't wait for a reply and went over to the turntable and a moment later the room was filled with Jeff Buckley. He beckoned to Castiel.

“C'mon, I'll show you the kitchen.”

They walked through and Dean went straight to the fridge. There was very little in there: a few bottles of beer, some off milk and a pile of ready meals. He really hadn't thought this through.

“Uhh, what d'you think of takeout?”

-

In the end they ordered chinese and Dean set up the table whilst they waited for it to arrive. Castiel followed him around and helped where he could.

The end result was atmospheric and kind of cliché. There were candles and he'd changed the music to some mood music album Sam had bought him as a joke when he got his first girlfriend. And although they were eating takeout food, it wouldn't be romantic to eat out of tubs so out came the china. Possibly for comic effect more than anything, though Dean highly doubted Castiel saw the hilarity as he seemed to be taking the situation very seriously.

When the food arrived they scooped the food onto their plates and threw the cartons in the bin. Castiel poured the wine.

It was strange, eating Chinese takeaway with Castiel in his apartment and Dean began to realise how little he knew about the man. He'd only met him yesterday and now he'd invited him home. Was this as good an idea as he'd thought? Well, it was too late now, may as well make the most of it.

“Tell me about yourself.” He asked. Cas cocked his head to the side in contemplation.

“I doubt there is anything of interest to tell you.”

“C'mon man, you know where I work and live and about my family. Gimme something.” Dean shovelled in a mouthful of food and chewed as he looked expectantly at Cas who eventually complied.

“My full name is Castiel Novak and I grew up in Pontiac, Illinois. I'm an only child and I became a senior member of my church before I left three years ago in search of a heavenly mission. I live in a house hear the river on the other side of town and I have for six months.”

Holy crap, Dean thought, I've ended up on a date with a bible nut. Castiel continued,

“I am uncertain now about my beliefs and what I am meant to do with my time on earth. Everything now seems so unclear. That is why I allowed myself here tonight. Previously I would not have considered it.”

Dean's brain was whirling as he tried to understand what Castiel was saying, as well as why on earth he was so damn attracted to somebody he had nothing in common with. But Cas was here too, even though it clearly broke some moral code of his, so he guessed it was mutual. They finished the meal in silence and Dean poured them each another glass of wine. It was fancy stuff, something French and expensive. It all tasted the same to Dean, he hated wine.

When the plates were piled in the kitchen, Castiel looked through Dean's books and Dean chose another record.

With the stones blasting out the speakers, Dean joined Cas at the bookshelf. He was flipping through the pages of some American History book Dean had never read, he'd never much cared for history or for patriotism but it'd belonged to his dad and he wasn't willing to get rid of it.

Cas was careful with the book and he placed it back on the shelf lovingly before looking up at Dean.

He moved slowly, like a cat trying to prevent it's prey from getting scared and bolting and Dean stayed statue still. Castiel had a look in his eyes, it was needing and hungry and Dean was helpless. Against those eyes he never had a chance.

There was a moment of stillness before first contact, the shared breath was the only movement but then it exploded. Dean was against the bookcase and Castiel was holding him there with kisses. The dry, chapped lips felt softer under his own and every point of contact, leg and leg, hand and hair, was burning.

His hands were reaching for Castiel's shirt, pulling it roughly over his head and he could still feel where his knuckles had brushed against a hipbone as he pulled his own shirt over his head.

Neither man could break apart for a moment, each of them clinging to every patch of bare skin as they made their way to the bedroom and by the time they dropped together onto the bed, every item of clothing had been abandoned.

The room was humid and the bodies were slick as they rolled and ground against each other. Their sweat beaded like dew and as they kissed it away, bruises bloomed underneath.

They were the knock of teeth and a mess of soft pants and broken groans and Dean was so full of Cas that the world was blue and peach and black. Eyes, lips, hair, it was all he could see, they were so close.

Their chests were pressed together and the skin stuck and pulled as they moved and their legs were tangled till it was hardly clear what limbs belonged to who. More importantly, it didn't matter, they moved like clockwork with each part playing its role and who did what was a foreign concept. Why would it matter when all they were was heat?

Dean was the first to burn out, but it wasn't long before they were both cooling in a pool of sticky damp.

Cas rolled off, still breathing heavily and Dean watched the inflation and deflation. He was tired and could feel his eyes drooping, when Cas spoke.

“It must have been pleasant to have a family. My parents would barely recognise me. They meant well in choosing The Lord over me and I don't resent it but it would have been pleasant all the same.”

Cas' voice was a whisper and the confession tugged at something within Dean and he grabbed Cas' hand. It was all he could do as a worded response was evading him. Cas dropped his eyes and spoke again.

“Do you see your parents often?”

Dean gulped, he hadn't talked about this ever. Not to Sam or to Bobby or the therapist he was forced to visit on occasion but the idea of lying didn't seem like a possibility. He didn't even consider it.

“My mum died in a fire when I was ten, some crazed arsonist lit our house up one night. Me and Sam got out ok but it was too late for...” He broke off for a moment and Cas wrapped his arms around him. “It was rough after that, our dad was hell bent on paying back the son of a bitch who did it. And he got him in the end, took him one hell of a long time but he got him. And got himself shot in the process. He died from internal bleeding last year. All I've got left is Sammy.”

Cas held Dean close and pressed his face into his neck,

“I'm so sorry Dean.” He whispered against his shoulder.

“Nah, don't fret it. I'm dealing fine.”

Cas pulled back and clasped Dean's face in his hands. His eyes were filled with such sympathy he could feel himself blushing beneath it.

“Dean, if you ever need anything from me, to talk about your loss or whatever you need. I am here for you.”

He snorted “Yeah yeah, alright you big softie. We should get this mess cleared up and then I could do with some sleep.”

He went and got a damp towel and cleaned them both up. Just as Dean's eyes were dropping shute, Cas murmured into his hair.

“Tomorrow can I take you to a place I love to visit? I am certain you will like it.”

“Sure,” He said around a smile. With Cas' arms wrapped round him as he slept, no nightmares came to him that night.

-

The first thing Dean noticed the next morning was that he was stiflingly hot. It was a minute later that he realised the heat didn't belong to him but to the man pressed against his back.

And for a moment he was dumbstruck. Castiel had _stayed_. For the entire night. He was still curled up in the bed, breathing softly onto the back of Dean's neck. It was a long time since someone had last stayed. Though usually it was Dean sneaking out in the middle of the night.

He rolled over and faced Castiel, he looked so beautiful in his sleep, so peaceful and innocent. He hardly knew him but Dean knew he'd be devastated if it didn't work out with Cas. He didn't get it, how he and Cas seemed to just work. But he was getting carried away.

Cas shifted a little and Dean watched him, hoping he wouldn't just wake up and leave.

When Cas' eyes finally opened and settled on Dean he softened and gave Dean a look that was so adoring that he blushed. He'd thought he'd seen something sad in the expression for a moment, but then it was gone and he decided to forget about it. Cas shuffled closer to Dean and kissed his forehead.

“You're beautiful” he marvelled and Dean was reduced to a stuttering mess. Fucking hell, he was not used to getting such sincere compliments and as it turned out, didn't know how to accept them.

“Shut up” He grumbled and was met with a laugh.

-

Normally Dean wouldn't dream of letting anyone drive his baby but as Cas refused point blank to let him know where they were going, he had very little choice. Cas had proven himself a careful driver though and had treated his car with care so dean, instead of worrying, had just fallen further in love with Cas after seeing him behind the wheel.

They'd parked on an inlay at the edge of a wood. Cas got out of the car so Dean followed, wondering what the hell they were doing here. Cas took his hand and started walking down a small dirt track.

As they continued, the track thinned out into a path that was only just big enough for the two of them. They had to squeeze closer together to walk side by side and though the day was hot enough for the bugs to stay lazing on the leaves, neither of them minded the contact.

The path was scattered with leaves that crackled beneath their shoes and the sky was clear and open. It struck Dean what a perfect day it seemed to be; the weather, scenery, company... Dean was happier than he was used to feeling. He looked toward Cas to find him watching him and smiled, he couldn't help it, he was feeling euphoric.

After a while Cas led him off the path through the trees and it was harder to keep their hands clasped as they evaded the trunks and roots that tried to block their way. Regretfully they let go but the moment the trees thinned away Dean grabbed it back. Then gaped stupidly at the view in front of him.

He'd always thought of the river as ugly and polluted but they were on high ground now and the gushing water was clear and the sun gave it a silvery glow. But what had really caught his eye was the mass of rose bushes that blanketed the river back, all of them blooming in a brilliant red he hadn't ever seen on a garden plant. They were untamed and chaotic, with no concept for aesthetics but just a craving for the light and they were beautiful.

“Damn.” Dean muttered, awestruck and Cas' eyes were sparkling at Dean's obvious appreciation. He looked more alive here, blue eyes alight and he seemed to be running on a brighter setting.

“It is beautiful here.”

Dean snorted gracelessly “That, my friend, is a serious understatement.”

Cas led them down to a patch of grass on the bank and they settled down. Dean lay back, hands beneath his head and watched Castiel sit in the sunlight. He'd been doing a lot of that recently but doubted he would get tired of it. Seriously, it wasn't natural for someone to look that damn good.

He shut his eyes and ran his fingers through the grass, feeling the blades tickle the palms of his hands and relaxed. The warmth of the sun on his face and the sound of the river were causing him to sink into calm.

“Thanks for bringing me here.”

There was no reply and he opened an eye to look over at his companion.

“...Cas?”

Castiel was stood above him, an anguished expression plastered over his face and a lump of granite clutched in his fist.

He whispered something that Dean couldn't quite catch and took a step forward.

 

–------

“I'm sorry.” He'd said.

'I don't want to do this but I must.' He'd not.

The rock in his hand was bloodstained and considering it was such a small amount of liquid, it made the stone so much heavier. The hard edges were digging ridges into his palm but he couldn't let go. Couldn't move.

He had done it. He had completed his mission. Hadn't wanted to, wasn't his choice but it was done. It was impossible to allow something a magnificent as Dean to carry on. Think of what he could lead people to, what he did lead Castiel to.

Castiel had always followed The Lord's rule, and strictly. But still Dean had successfully bought him a one way ticket to hell and all the confession in the world couldn't save him. He hated Dean for it. And he loved him for it.

And although he couldn't save himself, he could save others from damnation. From Dean. So he'd done what The Lord had willed him to do and now the blood was trailing down his thumb and dripping off his knuckle, painting red onto the grass.

Dean hadn't even tried to stop him, why hadn't he tried? He might still be alive then. Not that Castiel wished he were.

But oh, he did. The thought that he would never again feel Dean beneath him, never hear his laugh or see him blush was making him feel physically sick.

That was why he had to die though. He was destroying Castiel. Destroying everything. He couldn't destroy anything more as a corpse.

Castiel focused on his hand and forced his fingers, one by one, to release the rock which fell to the ground. The softness of the earth dulled the thud for which Castiel was grateful. He could still hear Dean's voice in his head and didn't want it replacing.

He plucked one of the roses, the fullest and brightest and most beautiful and knelt down to place it between Dean's teeth. It looked good, the colour of the lips was still dark and it was enhanced by that in the flower.

The eyes were dull though. The green was still fantastical but the magic was gone. Prince Charming had left the fairytale and it had fallen flat. Castiel avoided looking into them as he gently shut the eyelids.

He didn't look dead yet. He was glad.

He stood up, knees damp and breathed deeply. The roaring of the river was soothing and the torrent of emotions was fading into a blank emptiness. He had sinned so many times over the last few days, he had lusted and killed and loved another more than he loved his God. There could be no repent, why hold off the fire?

 

–---

It was a week later the body appeared in the town, face down in the river. The woman who found it had blanched at the ghostly, slime covered skin and matted hair. The police department confirmed it as the body of Castiel Novak: drowned. It was written off as an accident, they had little time for investigation anyway, with the entire department tied up in the missing Winchester case. Nobody ever thought to connect the two.


End file.
